She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Sc. Miss Ellicot pursed her lips and sat a little more upright. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. “My mind is full of confused stuff,” he said at length.
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